


Dress to Impress

by katnisspond



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Brave Eddie Kaspbrak, Eddie Kaspbrak Loves Richie Tozier, F/M, M/M, Richie Tozier Loves Eddie Kaspbrak, thoughts about gender dysphoria from cis pov
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-12 20:15:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29390397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katnisspond/pseuds/katnisspond
Summary: Sometimes all you need is a prickly old man, his husband who’s brave enough to poke him, and a really good photographer to nail the best promo shot Beverly could’ve asked for.Tw: homophobic slurs mention (also this isn’t my traditional fun banter type of fic I just needed a break from writing essays)
Relationships: Beverly Marsh & Richie Tozier, Eddie Kaspbrak & Beverly Marsh, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Kudos: 33





	Dress to Impress

Eddie shivered as the cold AC brushed down his back and locked eyes with himself in the mirror. After spending years fending off countless gender based insults - sissy, pussy, girly boy,  _ fag _ \- he couldn’t help but feel the same anger stirring in the pit of his stomach. The need to scream that he’s not his mother’s doll, that he’s not girly, that he’s a man right down to his core. Rather than tearing himself apart as he saw himself reflected in the smudged glass, Eddie mentally listed all the ways that he’d progressed over the past 4 years. He’d accepted being gay. He’d unlinked being gay from being sick after years of having that concept etched across his mother’s many prescriptions for him. He’d accepted that being a woman didn’t mean being like Sonia or Myra, nor the dim witted caricatures his husband painted across old sets for years, not knowing the absurdity of it all. He’d grown closest to the only Loser who happened to be female, resetting his understanding of gender completely. Life was no longer the black, white, and red he’d been seeing it as his whole life. 

Not that Eddie could truly revolutionize  _ every _ experience he’d ever had. He envied the carefree way younger generations treated gender as a nonentity or something that could be chosen according to which shoe fits, but Eddie could never change his own after so many years of being under attack, of having to prove his own identity for the sake of stubborn self governance in the few areas he had control of growing up. A part of him wondered if he’d have been different without Derry crushing any piece of him left unguarded. Part of him wondered if he could’ve worn makeup and a skirt in high school without wanting to fight every person to lay eyes on him. Instead, he hunkered down and tried not to disturb the fire inside wanting to scream at anyone who saw past his façade. Instead, he tried not to shudder when young kids reclaimed slurs that were never thrown at them like knives when they were at their most vulnerable. Instead, he and Richie clung to the puzzle pieces that fit, tossing out the torn up opportunities Pennywise took away from them so as to see their own jagged beautiful piece by its lonesome. 

And now Eddie was wearing a dress. 

It wasn’t too intricate, fitting with Beverly’s newest line of light flowing garments almost completely contradictory to her gaudy day to day attire. It was still her, the sleeker side she’d hidden behind for all those years at Rogan and Marsh but unleashed here in flowing fabrics with near glowing designs unfurling along the edges. Eddie’s dress in particular was a lavender that steeped into dark purples and golden embroidery at the edges where it would bellow as he moved. Sharp gold and black eyeliner glittered behind his naturally long eyelashes and deep down, somewhere beyond the churning distaste for this femininity represented on his own body, he could see the charm in it all. It wasn’t emasculating, otherwise Beverly wouldn’t have even asked him to wear this one in particular when Ben and Mike were right there at the ready and much freer with gender politics. She was challenging Eddie with this and Eddie was fighting with himself not to shred the damn fabric and be done with it. After a long, deep breath, he unlocked the dressing room door behind him. 

Richie knew him better than anyone, even Bev who was preparing to let Eddie off the hook if he bolted. Richie swept Eddie into his arms long before Eddie could catch sight of one of the photographers. 

“Damn, Eds. I always knew modeling belonged somewhere on your resumé.” He leaned down so Eddie could kiss him. Yes, they were  _ that _ in sync. It made Eddie want to scream. Come to think of it, that was his response to a lot of things. 

“I don’t think any mechanics will hire me if my resumé consists of modeling and risk analysis, dipshit.” 

“Really? Because to me that reads confidence and the ability to do extremely boring tasks without visibly dying inside.” Eddie snorted and pushed out of Richie’s arms, his calves already burning from the heeled boots Beverly had insisted on. He felt his heart rate spike as she clapped her hands together in joy, eyes roaming. 

“Eddie! You look great!” 

“Do not perceive me, thanks,” he grumbled. Beverly barreled onwards anyway. 

“And your hair’s not even glued down! See! No need to gel it half to death.” 

“Are you trying to make me hate this more? Because you’re succeeding.” Bev laughed and threw an arm over Eddie’s shoulder. It was a comforting anchor, like he was just one of the boys. 

Is it possible to feel gender dysphoria for the gender you already are? Maybe the ‘I might’ve worn make up’ thing was rooted in rebelling against heternormativity? Middle-aged office worker Eddie Kasbrak was not remotely equipped to delve into these things. His brain was on fucking fire and as usual, he couldn’t shut it up, so he opted for distraction. All he had to do was look in Richie’s direction for a devious grin to grow with the plot of machinations that would wreak havoc across the set. Eddie loved him more than anything. 

“Alright, honey. First things first, I need you to stand in front of this screen here and hold for my team to determine what pose we’re aiming for.” Eddie noted her neon pink shirt and muted green pants were somehow brighter than Richie’s outfit for once; a burgundy suit and yellow red-pepper shirt he’d been wearing since his promo with NBC earlier. 

“Why not just do the Time Warp and snap pictures until you get a good one?” Richie asked with a wiggle of his eyebrows, wandering dangerously close to a rack of clothes. Bev dragged him back close preemptively. Eddie scowled. 

“Because I want to walk out of here with my dignity at least somewhat intact,  _ dickhead _ .” 

“Remy?” Bev prompted her photographer. 

“What’s your favorite thing to eat, my man,” Richie asked him out of the blue. Remy glanced at him in confusion. 

“Pizza?” he replied. Richie nodded, locking eyes with Eddie. 

“Huh, thought you woulda gone for more vegetables.” Ratatouille reference. Good opportunity but bad punchline. Richie chuckled. “Yeah, yeah. I know,” he said to Eddie specifically and everyone else in the room suddenly felt like they were intruding somehow. Bev and Remy pushed on quickly in the hopes that they’d get through this before either Tozier managed to derail the entire venture. 

“Drill sergeant time. Left leg through the opening in the fabric, Eddie,” she ordered. Eddie had to hike it up and kick out nonsensically just to find where every piece of fabric parted. 

“Nice Rockette impression,” Richie said. His voice was a little more hollow with distance in the wide, glass lined room because he was drifting back behind the set towards the costumes again thinking he’d go unnoticed. He did not. Bev immediately dragged him back with far more force this time and a stern ‘No touchie.’ “Want me to find the opening for ya?” 

“No PDA on set, you two,” Bev said with an elbow into Richie’s side. “On a scale of one to ten, how far can you lean back?” After years of torment over his health and capabilities, Eddie felt a random pained spark of dread in his chest. 

“Zero. Sitting up straight is a miracle in it’s own right,” he replied. He knew his voice was a little shaky but no one would’ve noticed except his husband who was now sneaking to the other clothing rack. 

“Okay. Try and take it as far back as you can, hands on your hips.” Eddie shifted his weight to his back foot and tried to keep his breathing steady with the balancing act on his heel. “Good! Good. Okay, Remy. Bottom looking up?” Remy slid into position on the floor and the lighting guys shifted. Bev reeled Richie back in from the other clothing rack mere seconds before he had his hands on a glittery pink cowboy hat. 

“Why do you hate me?” he muttered as she positioned him in front of her. 

“Mr. Comedian. Your turn.” 

“Turn to do what?” The only piece of Bev visible with him standing in front was her arm while it gestured helplessly. 

“Comedian or something? He looks ready to kill someone!” She peaked around Richie’s wide torso with a sheepish grin. “No offense, dear, but that’s not great for marketing.” Eddie glowered at her. 

“Why didn’t you put him in that midnight one so he could be the angry goth Kaspbrak he alway had in him,” Richie asked with an eyebrow raised. 

“Tozier,” Eddie corrected, growing impossibly more uncomfortable by the minute. He had pretty much 0 control over the situation and for a man with control issues, that was not ideal. 

“I don’t think Toziers come in angry goth though. This is an alternate universe situation. Like roleplay but of yourself.” Richie wiggled his eyebrows. Internally, Eddie was hating this entire line of thought. He’d come to hate that name now that it was in his past and the more that he thought about it, the more he could empathize with transgender struggles because  _ jesus _ . 

“How about we not talk about my dead mother’s last name on set? I’d appreciate it if we didn’t,” Eddie asked with bittersweet sarcasm. To his surprise, Richie’s easy smile didn’t falter and he instantly knew the machinations actually laid in whatever weird mind game Richie was about to play, either sending Eddie off the rails on purpose or calming him down via some unexpected catharsis. Eddie pondered whether or not he could contort his expression to be any darker. 

“I don’t see why not,” Richie challenged. “She really was the fashionista of our childhood. She’d probably be rolling in her grave to be outdone by her very own fruit-of-the-loin.” Eddie grit his teeth. 

“You mean by her  _ son _ .” 

“Bingo.” No one on set dared interrupt whatever the hell this was. 

“Tact and timing, dear,” Eddie said in a low voice. Richie shoved his hands in his pockets and bounced lightly on his feet, looking smug as can be. 

“Just putting things in context.” Eddie nearly cut him off.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” 

“You’re allowed to be uncomfortable is all,” Richie replied like it was some soothing comment even though he  _ knew _ Eddie would bite back. “It’s okay if you aren’t all smiles after everything you put up with.” Sure enough, Eddie broke pose and snapped him. 

“What the fuck?! I’m not some fucking victim for being uncomforable wearing a dress! ‘ _Everything you put up with?!’_ Don’t even try to turn this into some Poor Eddie grew up with- JESUS!” Suddenly, there was a camera flash from all sides that blinded everyone in the room. Eddie sputtered and stepped back as Bev turned to an awestruck Remy like he was insane. Richie hadn’t even flinched, probably having known exactly when those flashbulbs would go off. Eddie was tempted to chuck his shoe at the man’s easy smile. 

“We’re done here,” Remy said excitedly. He passed his camera up to Bev and she immediately nodded, pointing at it with her pinky. 

“Holy shit. You’re right. Holy shit!” Richie leaned over her shoulder to glance at it and winked in Eddie’s direction.

“You’re sleeping on the couch.” 

“Empty threats,” Richie replied, sticking his tongue out. Eddie huffed and began yanking the heels off. The nearby camera woman narrowly missed a bouncing shoe as he tossed them aside to pad over comfortably, tucking himself under Richie’s arm to peer at the small pixelized take. He barely caught a glimpse before the SIM card was out and heading towards Bev’s computer in the hands of an intern. 

“Hey! I didn’t get to see those!” Bev whipped around and kissed his head giddily. 

“Shhh. I’m so proud!”

“I was here for a minute tops!” Eddie cried. Richie nudged his hip. 

“Guess you’re just easy to rile up, huh?” 

“This is fucking pastel you douchebag! People in pastels are supposed to be all sunshine and roses and shit, not angry!” 

“It was a good photo,” Remy said resolutely. The move was unwise. Poor Remy got caught in the resulting thirty minute argument and could only escape through the kindness of Bev’s heart to move Richie and Eddie’s bickering back to the dressing room. 

* * *

  
  


There’s something to be said about having a family. A real one, anyway. The kind that looked out for their own and shared love in equal measure. Even the little moments in life blossomed into memorable excitement. 

Bill was in a state of joyful shock as they exited the mall theater. 

“The comic book arstyle! The soundtrack! The fucking posters!” he cried. Ben laughed and pulled him in a quick sidehug with an arm pat. 

“May is a certified MILF. It’s decided,” Richie said with a nod. 

“That’s not a new decision, Rich,” Stan said with a gentle smile. Eddie glanced over at Stan to call him out for having a type when he instead caught sight of the enormous wallsized  _ Winterfire  _ advertisement behind the man. His heart dropped to his feet knowing it was the photo of himself. It’s not that Eddie didn’t expect it to circulate with the line’s publicity but an entire wall was a bit much! He couldn’t avert his eyes fast enough for Richie not to follow his gaze and pause. What followed wasn’t the boisterous production Eddie expected.

“Hey, can Eddie and I stop off real quick? I need to make out with my morally ambiguous mini Peter Parker.” Mike gasped and Stan gave an exhausted groan. 

“They do look similar!” Ben exclaimed. Bev gave a giggle and swung their hands back and forth, clearly well aware of her marketing placement.

“We’ll save a spot for you at the table,” Patty replied with a rye smile.

“Eddie would probably prefer two but one’s fine by me!” With that, their friends pulled ahead of them. Eddie buried his burning face in Richie’s chest to try and hide from the fact that they were definitely about to address (hah!) the advertisement in question. “You good, Eds?” Eddie scrunched his nose up and nodded. 

“Fine. It’s a fucking wall. Who puts a person up on a wall?” 

“Depends on what you mean by puts.” Eddie pulled back to stick his tongue out at the weak attempt. Richie leaned forward and bit it. God they were strange. “Come on, my esteemed spouse. I need a picture of you in front of the picture of you. Eds-ception.” They pulled in tight with their fingers entertwined loosely between them, approaching the enormous photograph.

Seeing it in person, Eddie finally understood why Richie had pushed him to explode like that on purpose. It was fairly badass, the dress whipping in the air like a sheet on a laundry line as he reasserted himself. His face would always be a mute point from Eddie’s perspective, full of odd angles and overshadowed by a monstrous set of eyebrows that he never attempted justifying as flattering or not. Still, the angle did him justice and his hair bounced freely as it had from the past couple of weeks in the present. Eddie was loosening up little by little but he looked far more free in that photo than he ever had before. Something about it made him look alive because truth be told, he’d felt it. Letting go knowing he wouldn’t hurt anyone in his wake. 

He didn’t realize that his view of alive was anyone else’s view of  _ powerful _ . 

“Goddamn. I wonder if we could steal this.  _ Heist, anyone _ ?” Richie asked in his self-proclaimed burglar voice. 

“Do we own a wall this would even fit on? No. You’re insane.” Richie pulled out his IPhone and Eddie gave an exaggerated sigh, backing up against the wall like it was the most boring task he’d ever been asked to complete. 

“Ben could build it for us!” 

“Okay, I raise you this: I don’t want that,” Eddie replied flatly. Richie snorted. 

“Fine. We go halvsies on a life size wallpaper for the office.” Eddie looked back up at the wall and heard Richie’s IPhone camera snap. 

“Smaller than lifesize but… maybe.” 


End file.
